A Single Dark Journey
by CC Donisiliel
Summary: REVISED Arathoniel must travel ahead of the Fellowship, plotting a course. Her journey throughout Middle Earth will not only reconnect her with old friends, but she will discover who she is and where she belongs.
1. A Valiant Fight

_Elven words in this section:_

Rinc- Move 

_Bre- Quickly_

"It fought valiantly, but, alas, it lost the battle."

"I can see that.  It would appear that these logs fought valiantly, but were no match for your expertise in swordplay."

Arathoniel looked down at her young friend, the hobbit, Frodo Baggins.  Suppressing a laugh, she ruffled his soft and curly hair.  It was moments like these, in the Shire, in the presence of the most wonderful race of people in Middle Earth that it didn't seem to matter that she didn't belong.  That she was a part of no one.  Here, she was a Baggins, though she was far too tall and her feet were far too small.  Here, she understood that the one who had raised her, Gandalf the Grey (known as Mithrandir to the Elves and Men), wanted her to be happy in spite of her situation.

Where had she come from?  She did not know.  It seemed she belonged to no particular race of people.  And there were many.

She did not belong to the order of Wizards, as Gandalf did.  She had never met another member of the order, but she had been assured that she was not one.  She was not a Hobbit or a Dwarf.  Above all else, she was far too tall.  Though she was 2,894 years old, she was not an Elf.  Again, she had never met an Elf (unless her visions were to be counted, and she did not count them), but the lack of a point to her ears and yet another assurance from Gandalf led her to know that she did not belong to an Elven race.  She was not of the race of Men either.  Her age alone told her that.  Men rarely made it to 100 years old (unless they were one of the Dunedain, but even then they did not make it to nearly 3,000 years old).  She was not an Orc, a Goblin, a Troll, or any other Dark Being.  There was no darkness or evil in her soul.  Every day that passed reminded her that she belonged nowhere.

There was only one thing that she was certain of.  Of what she was.  Arathoniel was a warrior.  For all of her long life she was bred to fight and survive.  Something was coming.  She was certain of it.  Of the many visions that reached out to her, a large number of them showed her a coming darkness.  At the center of that darkness she often saw her friend, Frodo.  She would give all that she was to protect him and, she feared, that the time would come when she would have to do so.

"There is a party tonight, you know," Frodo began picking at the splintered pieces of wood that peppered the ground.

"There is always a party in the Shire, Master Baggins," Arathoniel laughed easily as she sheathed her sword, "Unfortunately, I will not be in attendance this evening."

A frown, a rare occurrence for a Hobbit, crossed his cherubic features.  "And why not?  It is a Brandybuck gathering, you know?"

"A wonderful gathering it will be.  However, I must meet with Gandalf this evening.  It's of vital importance.  Or so he says."

"Oh, everything is vitally important to Gandalf.  He wouldn't mind you taking a break.  A bit of pipe-weed and a half of ale would do you well."

Arathoniel smiled in spite of herself.  She was badly in need of the joy of a Hobbiton party.  Sadly, the urgency of Gandalf's message told her that she would have to miss whatever occasion Meriadoc Brandybuck was celebrating.  The message, and her visions of the Woodland Elf, told her she would not be back to the Shire for a time to come.

"Would that I could, my dear Hobbit, but this is truly important.  I fear it will affect us all."

"Your visions," the Hobbit questioned, "The Elf?"

"Yes, Frodo.  Yes."  Dropping to a knee, Arathoniel held his hands in her own, "Promise me that you will fight to remain well.  No matter what happens.  Make me that promise.  You must."

"I promise.  Of course, I promise."

Standing, she placed a hand aside his cheek.  "If ever you need me, Frodo Baggins, simply speak my name and there will I be.  Do not be afraid.  All will be well.  That is my promise to you."

Placing a kiss atop his gentle head, she strapped her quiver to her back.  Sadness overwhelmed her as she turned from her friend.  Climbing onto her horse, she glanced at Hobbiton.  "Rinc bre," she whispered and left Frodo, and the Shire, to her past.


	2. A Path to Forge

_Elven words in this section:_

_Mankoi- Why_

_Al- Not_

_Nin- Me_

Arathoniel did her best to process all that Gandalf had told her.  A ring.  The Dark Lord Sauron rising to power again.  A fellowship.  The fellowship of Nine.  The fellowship of the Ring.  Frodo, sweet darling Frodo Baggins, bearing the burden of the One Ring.  The ring of power.  And the fate of Arathoniel?  She would plot a course for the fellowship to follow.  Alone.  As always.  Alone.

"All my life have I trained for this.  You have readied me for this, haven't you," Arathoniel felt the heaviness creeping back into her heart, "This I understand.  How could I not?  But Frodo?  Why Frodo?  Mankoi al-nin?  Why not you?  Why not ANY being other than Frodo Baggins?"

Gandalf raised his hand to stop her pained ramblings.  "The power of the One Ring is too much.  Its power is too tempting for anyone other than Frodo.  You know his strength.  You know where his strength lies.  This task is his and his alone."

"I cannot accept this, Gandalf.  I cannot accept that he must take on a task that may lead him to his very death.  I cannot.  I will not."

"You must, Arathoniel.  You shall.  All of Middle Earth depends upon this acceptance."

"And if I fail," she whispered towards the horizon.

"You will not fail.  We both know this," he watched with concern as she mounted her horse, "There is much peril ahead for us all.  Do not lose your faith, nor your hope."


	3. The Road to Imladris

_Elven words in this section:_

Al- Not 

_i- The_

_Perian- Hobbit_

_Bereth- Queen_

_The road to Rivendell wound through a vast forest.  Many times had she walked these woods.  Always alone.  She knew each tree.  Each leaf.  They had become her friends.  But on this evening, she hadn't thought to see this place.  Something had brought her here.  Or someone._

_"Frodo?  Is it you?" Arathoniel searched, "Or Gandalf?  Who has called me here?"_

_"Al-i perian.  Nor is it the Wizard," a voice came from above, from her beloved trees._

_She smiled.  It was voice she would have recognized anywhere.  She turned slowly, in time to see him make his way out of the tree and land squarely in front of her.  Her heart leapt at the sight of him.  Not the Hobbit, or the Wizard.  It was the Elf.  Would that she was an Elf, for she was certain that he would be hers.  Her spirits, which had been dour since the beginning of her journey, were suddenly lifted._

_"Ah, Master Elf.  Many places have you called me to, but never the Road to Rivendell.  Why now," she rested a hand on his cheek._

_"Legolas," the Woodland Elf spoke and returned her greeting._

_She enjoyed the feel of his hand on her cheek, even if it was merely a hand of greeting.  "I don't understand?  Legolas," she questioned._

_"I should like to hear you speak my name from this moment on," he smiled warmly, "And the only name that I have to give is Legolas."_

_"Why have you called me to the Road to Imladris," she nodded towards him, smiling wryly, "Legolas."_

_"Why do you ask this question when the answer is already one that you know."_

_"Because I am still not yet convinced of the reality of you.  Some assurances are needed," she took his hand and they began to walk as they had many times before.  There was such safety in his touch, and she could not help but revel in it._

_"What assurances can I possibly give to you, save that I am as real as you are?  That we share a common purpose.  That I am yours to take at will."_

_"You must not say things such as that and you know why.  Please, do not argue this point.  You know that I am right.  And the things that you have said cannot convince me that you are not a creation of my mind."_

_"If I was not real, could I call you to me?"_

_"Perhaps.  I do not know of any rules for these visions.  Perhaps I create them.  Perhaps I created you," she teased, pulling him towards a gleaming stream of crystal waters."_

_She wound his arms about her waist, desperately needing the comfort and safety she found in them.  Seeing their reflection in the clear waters, she sighed.  What stared back was not reality.  She was clothed in the garb of Elven royalty.  There was happiness, joy, safety.  She knew, however, that this was not real.  The heaviness of her heart began to cloud the reflection.  She feared that, if she did not think on other things, all she would see was her desire.  For she loved this Elf, this Legolas.  Real or imagined, it pained her greatly.  For, real or imagined, they could never be.  Only within her visions could she have what she truly desired._

_"And why can you not have what it is that your heart desires so," Legolas questioned softly, his lips grazing the tender flesh of her ear._

_The pain of all that had occurred, all that would occur, and all that Arathoniel would never have began to crush what little was left of her heart.  "Why do you ask such questions," her voice was threaded with the pain of the desires she would never reach and those things that she had lost so long ago.  Her mind turned, momentarily, to Frodo and all that was to befall the house of Baggins.  Her heart ached from the pain of it._

_"You must not let the weight of all that is to come hold you in its thrall.  The pain will break your heart.  The breaking of your heart would cause the destruction of mine," his lips gently stroked the slope of her neck, "I choose you, my love.   The choice is mine, and I choose you."_

_"My Greenleaf," she smiled sadly, "My Legolas of the Mirkwood.  We haven't time to discuss such things.  There is much danger ahead for both of us, I fear."_

_"Fear it not, my Bereth.  There is much peril in our futures, yes, but it will end well for us.  Darkness shall hold us only for moments, and, in those moments, all in Company will have one another," Legolas turned Arathoniel to his face, the softness of an Elven smile etched into his features._

_"I am not in company, Greenleaf," she could not remove the sadness from her countenance, in spite of the twinkle in the gentle blue of his eyes.  A question he did leave her with, however.  "Why do you call me Bereth?"_

_"You will come to understand in time.  For now, I must leave you.  Stay safe and well, my sweet love."_

_With a quick taste of her Greenleaf's lips, Arathoniel watched as he disappeared into the wood of Imladris.  The sadness that had overwhelmed her heart had abated a bit.  Though she knew life with one of the Noldorin was never to be, she would never ask him to give up the life of an Elf, it warmed her heart to know she had his love.  Turning from her stream, she left the sanctuary of Imladris to dreams._


	4. Fate Decided

The sound, the smell, by all that the Valar had seen, these beasts were close.  Far closer than she would have liked for them to be.  But what they were, Arathoniel could not tell.  These were no Orcs that she had ever seen.  They were among the darkest of beasts, to be certain, but they were of a brute strength that she had never encountered before.  The evil that was carried within their souls was absolutely palpable.  She could feel it as it emanated from them.  Of more importance, they carried the mark of the White Hand.  The White Wizard.  Saruman.  Had he truly turned against those who had trusted him for so many years?

Closer she crept to their encampment.  What was that smell?  It filled the air and sickened her.  What was it that they burned?  It smelled of flesh.  Yes.  That's what it had to be.  The flesh of man.  By all of the Valar, they were roasting man flesh on a spit.  Her heart was suddenly pained again.  Never had she known a man, but to be reduced to that?  The meal of evil warriors.  She felt her stomach turn.  Had there been food in her belly, she was sure that she would have retched.

She could not allow this grotesque display become a distraction.  No.  She must learn what these coarse beasts were about.  What actions they were to take, for certainly they were to be sent against the Fellowship.  What their weaknesses were, for the certainly had some.

A pain racked her suddenly.  What these beings were called.  Uruk-hai.  The Army of Saruman.  Built to destroy the world of man.  Her stomach turned again.

Her head turned as the Uruks began to move against one another.  Battle practice, to be certain.  But they would fight until death came to one.  For they accepted no weakness among one another.  Her eyes focused on the rough hands that fought without battle ready swords.  They betrayed their weakness to her almost immediately.  If the armor could move, they were easily killed.  The weakness was at the neck.  At the neck and under the arm.  Cloaking herself in shadow and tree, she raised her arrow.  As it struck the neck of the beast at which she took aim, Arathoniel's fate was decided.  She would not take them all.


	5. Frodo's Pain

_"I am slipping.  I am dying.  The ring.  The precious.  It must return to it's master," a voice called in the darkness._

_Arathoniel turned again and again, trying her best to clear her head.  To see what could not be seen.  To part the darkness that clouded her mind.  The voice that she heard was familiar to her.  She'd heard it many times over.  Why could she not put her mind to this?  Why could she not part the darkness enough to see to whom the voice belonged?_

_There was pain.  A sudden pain.  A white, blinding light and intense pain.  She felt herself fall to the ground as the pain began to take hold.  She grasped small patches of the ground until her fingers found flesh.  Not just flesh, no, their was hair as well.  Her lids were heavy as she tried desperately to pull them open._

_By the grace of the Valar, no.  NO!  It must not be!_

_She crawled forward as quickly as her limbs would carry her, the pain racking her tall, slim frame.  She rested a hand on the wound just above her dearest friend's heart.  "Frodo," she whispered, "Frodo, no.  What has happened?  How has this happened?"_

_"The ring.  It must return to it's master.  The master of the One Ring calls forth for its return.  The pain.  It is too much.  The ring.  The pain," his words trailed into naught more than meaningless gasps._

_Wraiths.  The Nazgul.  How had they found Frodo?  Why was Gandalf not protecting this halfling?  And where was Strider?_

_"No, Frodo, hear me.  Hear my words, my voice.  You called to me, my friend, in your need and now you MUST hear my words.  You MUST hold strong.  Though there is fear, the ring has no power over you.  It holds no sway over you, my sweet one.  You have the strength to defend yourself against its power.  And you must.  You mustn't allow this ring to destroy who you are, what you are.  Give me the pain, Frodo.  Send the pain to your oldest friend.  I can take this pain.  Simply give it over to me."_

_Her hand covered the wound created by a Morgul blade carefully, drawing the intense sadness and pain into her body.  She was suddenly racked with it as she fell forward, her body covering that of Frodo's.  Her world slowly went black again as his words faded into nothingness._


	6. Bound and Taken

Arathoniel awoke, stripped to virtually nothing, her left shoulder aching from the near death she had taken from Frodo.  The smell that sickened her so just hours earlier was now filling her senses to the point of breaking.  It pained her whole body to simply breath it in.  It was not, however, just the burning flesh of man, it was the wretched stench of those beasts.  The evil that they released into the very air that surrounded them.  She struggled to open her eyes and survey her surroundings.

It took only moments to realize that she would be going nowhere.  She tested the bonds on her wrists, but found to be true what she had guessed at just moments before.  They were too strong for her to undo.  Saruman himself may as well have created them.  Her clothing had been reduced to virtually nothing.  She could feel where those disgusting animals had touched her, tried to violate her.  She wondered what had stopped them.  She grimaced at the pain in her side.  Musing to herself, she couldn't stop the laughter that suddenly erupted.  "At least I still have my hair."

"Quiet, Elf," one of the Uruks slid his sword over her bare middle, "Or I will have no problem quieting you."

Elf?  What fools the Uruks were.

"I am no Elf," Arathoniel's teeth were tightly ground, her anger at these beings caused her to seethe.

"Ah, do you wish to have your liar's tongue removed?  It would do me great pleasure to watch the torture of one so _lovely _as you.  The White Wizard, he tells us what you are, you dirty Elven..."

"QUIET, fool Uruk," an Orc grabbed the forearm of the large beast, "Speak not a word to this witch.  She is beguiling.  She'd have one as foolish as you enthralled in no time.  Leave her be."

Arathoniel watched as the Uruk-hai warrior quickly overpowered his Orc counterpart.  The Orc, in no time, was being torn limb from limb.  Orc blood was being spread from tree to tree.  She gasped and closed her eyes tightly as the Uruk took his first bite of the Orc's flesh.  She could hear him tearing into it again and again.  Her stomach turned and she retched.  Though nothing came up, she retched just the same.  The last sound she heard was the cry of Uruk-hai in battle before she was plunged into darkness again.


	7. The Fears of a Prince

_Elven words in this section:_

_He- She             Deris- Remains           Guruthos- The Shadow of Death_

_Hall- Veiled        Im- I                         Malus- Pales_

_Can- Call            Ed- Out                      Al- Not_

_Ah- With            Nin-My                       I- The _

_Nauth- Thoughts A- And                       Bain- Fair_

_Hollen- Closed    An- To                       Thir- Countenance_

_Enni- Me            Cuinars- Lives             Ned- Of_

The forest just outside of Imladris shuddered.  The thunderous pounds of an Elven prince on tree after tree turned nature on its ear.  The trees groaned at the anger that was attacking their precious bark.  But some leeway was given to a Prince of the wood.

Two days of walking, and thoughts of how to protect the young one that had taken on such a heavy burden, had not quelled the outward fear of the normally stoic Mirkwood Elf.  There was nothing he could do to change the situation and that had driven him to distraction.  Legolas was extraordinarily unnerved.

"He deris hall," he whispered to the leaves that slumbered in his hands, "Im can-ed-ah nin nauth, a he deris hollen an enni!"

Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and he knew it.  Though he could not place exactly what it was, what was happening to Arathoniel, he knew something was wrong nonetheless.  She had never ignored when he called to her.  She was normally only too glad to heed his pleas for companionship.  But now, in a time of great need for them both, he could not find her.  Her mind was seemingly closed to him.  His eyes closed in thought as he, again, attempted to find his bereth, his queen.

"Legolas?"

A hand of comfort rested on his shoulder.  It was that of Aragorn, the one force in all the world that could calm his thoughts at that time.  That King of Men, that mortal, that last of the Dunedain, was above all else a friend.  Only he seemed to understand the fears that had overtaken Legolas.

"You must not let these thoughts haunt you.  She is following the past that she must.  Arathoniel is able to control her own fate.  You must trust her ability."

"Her ability is the only thing that I do trust, my friend.  But that evil that she now faces..."

Aragorn raised a hand to halt the dark thoughts of the Elf.  However, his own thoughts were of an even darker nature.  "Do you believe she is already dead?"

"Guruthos malus al-i bain thir ned nin bereth," Legolas cried out.

Anger was now mixed with fear.  _This should not have been her task_, he thought.  It should have been anyone's task but hers.  What manner of being could be keeping her from him?  What could keep her mind from his?  Where was she?

Dropping to his knees, Legolas turned his eyes towards the reddened sky.  With fists balled tightly, his entire body shook.  "ARATHONIEL," he cried out, before he forced his pain inward.


End file.
